


General

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drunkness, General kink, Grief, Poe is Sleepy, Title Kink, and adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: The war is won and the victory party is in full swing. Poe can't seem to leave your side.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	General

“Are you going to stay glued to my side all evening?” you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow, “Don’t you have important people to celebrate with, _General_?”

His eyes darken as you use his new title and he steps close to you, playing with the buttons on your jacket, “I think you’re pretty important.” he whispers.

Poe had been drunkenly following you around since the celebration banquet ended, where he, Poe, Rey, and a slew of other resistance fighters had received their badges of honour and Poe had been officially appointed General. Not just interim. The position was now his. 

“You’re a hero. Go act like it.” you wave your hand and continue to weave through the crowd. 

He holds onto the back of your coat, keeping you from escaping his antics, “What exactly does it mean to ‘act like a hero’ then, since you’re such an expert?” Once again, in your personal space. Liquor on his breath. So warm…

You swallow before stating, “I don’t know, getting laid or something.” your face is red as you think about him–

No.

No.

We are not going there _today._

 _“_ Isn’t that what I’m trying to do right now?” His smile turns something in you, and your dismissive attitude is very quickly replaced with a stuttering mess. 

“P-Pardon?” 

He reaches out, hooking your belt loop with two fingers and pulling you to his chest. Poe leans down, breath hot against you ear, “I said,” he moves closer still, his whole body now pressed to yours, “Don’t you think that what I’m trying to do right now is trying to get laid?”

“Poe.” you murmur, trying to pull away. 

He immediately drops his hands and steps back, face sobering up, “I’m really sorry. I thought that… you suggesting I should get laid was an offer. I’m so sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“No, no.” you put your face in your hands, hoping desperately that this awkwardness is some kind of dream, “Poe, I don’t want to just be your victory sex. That’s all.” 

“What do you mean… ‘just’?” Peaking through your fingers, you see a silly grin spread across his face, “You mean…” 

“Poe!” you whine.

You feel his hands on your wrists, gently uncovering your face. Poe looks into your eyes as he murmurs, “I didn’t want to say anything before the war was over. I didn’t want you to think that I was just saying it because ‘we might die’ or something.” he pauses, a sweet smile on his lips, “If it wasn’t ‘victory sex’, as you put it… would… would you still want me?”

He’s so close you can feel his breath on your face. “Yes.” you let your guard fall, leaning your forehead against his.

“I would like to kiss you.” he says it so easily, so simply, that it could be commentary on the weather. 

You lean in, pressing your lips softly to his. He smiles against you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. 

You pulls away, just far enough that you can say, “So, about that whole “getting laid” thing…” 

He giggles and you realize just how drunk he is. 

“Another time, okay General?” 

He nods, “Okay. But you can’t call me General until then.” 

“Why?” 

“Because…” he leans in, “I might rip your clothes off and have you right here if you do it again.” 

You squeal, untangling yourself as your face turns red and you laugh, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” 

“Or you could keep going.” 

“Another time, Poe.” you wink. 

“Another time, then.” he tucks himself into your neck, “I like you.” he pauses, “I’m tired.” 

You help him to his quarters. About halfway there, he begins to cry softly into your shoulder. “I miss Snap.” 

“Get some sleep, okay?” this will be easier to help with when he isn’t drunk. 

He uses your arm to climb into bed. As he pulls his covers up to his chin, you realize how young he looks. So much responsibility. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

“Stay?” he asks. 

“Okay.” You crawl into bed next to him, on top of the covers, and let him curl into you. “Sleep well, General.” 

He doesn’t respond, already long gone.


End file.
